


In The Mouth of The Monsters

by DanskVind



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Child Neglect, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Monsters, Multi, Victorian era, gross themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanskVind/pseuds/DanskVind
Summary: Lukas is a young man who after years of verbal battery from his mother over the abduction of his younger brother runs away to start over. However, Lukas enters the world with a fear of the unknown, for he believes a monster was the one to take his brother, and is terrified the monsters will come after him too. Along his way he meets new people who offer him help such as the older and cheerful Magnus and his friends. But as time goes on Lukas realizes that the monsters he's so terrified of don’t look ghoulish anymore, they look human.





	1. In The Beginning, There Was Lukas

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work I am currently developing with the help of my Fiancée. We don't have a scheduled updating system but plan to work on it as much as we can with our somewhat hectic lives. This work is the result of too much energy and dark ideas so here's a warning to the readers, there will be dark themes and both the tags and warnings will change as we update.  
> My Tumblr  
> https://danskvind.tumblr.com/  
> My Fiancée's Tumblr  
> https://the-lindworm-prince.tumblr.com

     I wish he had been stillborn. When I was five and he was born, Mama looked down at me and said: “You are now the older child, be his model and guide.” I wish I was not his guide, me, I was the male figure in a broken household. Mama went off and married a handsome Icelandic man, and as a result, a handsome Icelandic child was born, and I was by myself, a Norwegian who refused to speak the language of my new father. Call me shallow but I tried to keep my dearest little brother away from him, there was something just off about the odd Icelandic man my mother married. My gut feeling turned out to be correct and eventually he left us for a much younger woman. So here I was, with the image of masculinity and strength that my mother bestowed upon me. I was now the sole role model for my brother. I would go outside with him to show him the world, and our world was the flat land and farm at the base of a fjord. Despite my dearest brother barely being two I would try to play with him until one day the most ungodly creature I had ever seen came and whisked him away from me. Terror, it was bubbling up inside of me and with it desire to somehow go after it, but I was seven, and from that point on I became the poison in my mother’s life, the blame and shame. I love my poor brother, he who was taken by a monster, but I wished it had been that he had come into this world dead so I could be as pure as the waters of the fjord and not the poison that would eventually corrupt them.

     As the years went on I became distant, since my mother turned against me and nobody dared to come close for fear of being ostracized just by association. My mother, now an aging widow, had decided I was too horrible to be around and was plotting to send me to join the church. She called me disrespectful, corrupt and acted as though she hadn’t turned to sitting on a street corner in desperate attempts to keep the farm she had so readily neglected. I wasn’t going to stand for that, so on the night before I was to be sent away to the city I stole half of the money she had and left. The only things I had was enough money for a few nights in an inn, some journals, and the only remaining horse on the farm. I pretended not to hear my mother stirring or the screams of “Thief!” as I fled. I had no other choice but to carry on because it was that or death. I rode up the steep fjord mountains and watched my mama try to climb up it, her round and wrinkled form continuously slipping down the side of the fjord. Eventually, I saw she was never going to get to me and I turned and looked at her before I yelled at the top of my lungs at her “I will gladly see you in hell you disgusting creature!” She called me poison so I spouted out poison from my gullet at her. I continuously rode, thinking somehow someone like her, or worse the church would be after me. I slept in the woods that night, it was quieter than ever there. As I woke the next morning my clothes damp with morning dew, I still found my weary body running, I am more terrified than brave or valiant for running. I then began to remember why I hadn’t run away in the first place. That ungodly creature that took my handsome little brother, now I was frozen.

    Tears filled my eyes and began rolling down my cheeks in ugly hot rivers. My skin reddened as I collapsed in the dirt, falling to my knees as my heart began to race. Blood rushed in my skull as I began to breathe faster. Then I stopped breathing as I heard leaves crunching. I stumbled as I got up. Falling against a tree as I scrambled to climb. I felt my palms begin to bleed as I sat high in the tree. I held my satchel with all its precious treasures to my chest as if it would hide my beating heart.My horse seemed just as panicked, rearing up just as something ripped through the mare’s chest. It was topped with the remains of her heart, and the mare’s life came to an end slowly as her blood dripped down and into the ground. I held my breath as a skeletal beast rose out of the forest floor, covered in dirt and leaves, feasting on her flesh with canines I would’ve sooner identified as that of a wolf. I sat in the tree for what felt like hours, listening to the sickening crunch of bones and the slurping noise of guts being consumed as I struggled to keep in what little food was on my stomach.

     Eventually, silence came over the forest once more, and so also came over my ego. I was tired of always walking a line, the line I had been walking since my brother’s kidnapping. I went stone cold and just climbed down the tree and onto the road. I felt nothing, if I did I would be torn between my fear of my mother and the fear of what lays ahead. Thus with no feeling, I walked the path through the forest. The steady sound of a stream nearby and the small sounds of critters scurrying throughout the place echoed down the path. I repeated to myself that I wanted to reach a town or house by the end of the day. It did not happen. I was walking in the dark of the night, suppressing any emotion that could possibly make me panic. I felt the sides of the road with my feet and hands, tiredly inching my way through the forest. I eventually saw the purple sky of dawn and the singing of birds return. My heart slowed down from the fast pace it had kept through the night. I saw the end of the road, it led to a farm, with large mounds of hay and still sleeping sheep around. It was then I promptly collapsed in a pile of dry hay and fell asleep.

     The sounds of approaching footsteps woke me, forcing me to stand as I hurried off. I was so thirsty that on the way out I stole water from the sheep. It tasted horrible on my tongue but with that little bit, I could run my tongue over my chapped lips. I let out a weary breath and staggered off of the farm into town. People gave me a wide berth, due to my dirty appearance and matted hair. I reeked of sheep and dung, which gave the people reason to stop my entering of any shops. I was growing tired of being kept away with threats of injury, but little did I know what the fates had in store for me. I barely could turn as someone ran up and knocked me over. My skull hit the ground and I was suddenly knocked into unconsciousness.


	2. Magnus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update, we introduce a great man. A name for the legends. A man who we really had fun writing. A man... who is an oddball with an amazing ability to be weird.

        When I awoke, it was to an aged face hovering over me. In my tired state, I saw dark wisps of malevolent energy creep from the man’s lips as he tried to speak to me. I screamed, clutching my head before I thrashed, screamed, and yelled for him to get away from me. He forced me to lay down, and after calming my racing heart I found I could manage to pick up him saying I cracked my skull open. That explained the piercing pain that began to creep into the place of my adrenaline rush. I could barely hear him, though, and worried that perhaps my small skirmish with the pavement had resulted in some obscure head injury I’d die soon from. 

             The man whose face bore the wrinkles of age began to check on my injury. He lifted my limp arm, holding it almost tenderly as he checked my pulse. Or at least he looked like he was checking my pulse. It all was very hazy. My vision refused to focus, but I could tell I was in the man’s bedroom. The room just  _ felt  _ warm and inviting, and the bed had a very big sunken spot that my bruised body seemed to melt into. He sat me up carefully, retrieving a cooling bowl of porridge. I wrinkled my nose and refused to eat. After a glance at the tired expression, he held I hesitantly allowed him to slip the porridge into my mouth. I felt my face burn with embarrassment, and I bit back a scathing remark. My hands tightened their grip on the oversized shirt that covered my body. My legs rubbed together and proved my theory that I was no longer wearing my dirtied clothes. I worried about what intentions the man had for me, but it was stamped out by the desire to have warm food in me. 

            I could not really keep my head up, the world spun around and the man’s eyes continued to look at me sway around. Then it became hard to focus on the man or sit up. The piercing pain in my head even made it hard to keep the food in my mouth. I promptly fell back and fell back into unconsciousness. Everything else became vague and dreamlike. Some dreamlike sequences involved me seeing the man in various places, having my wound cleaned, and even looking out the window. But I always knew the man was near. 

I gasped back into reality, it was as if I had been sleeping and woken up from a nightmare. I was at a dining table, a large but strangely formal suit on me, it was not mine. In front of me was the man, he looked back at me and there was silence for a moment. I then asked, confused, “What is going on?”

           I tried to stand, the man rushing to help me stand. I pushed away his hands, “Don’t touch me! Who are you?!” I noted the dull expression of the man, who seemed a bit tense. 

After a moment the man said, “My name is Magnus, you've been in my home for nearly four days now.” 

My response was to freeze, eyes darting to the door as if I was going to find a priest standing nearby to take me away. The named Magnus diverted my attention by reaching for my food. A hazy image of me eating reached my throbbing brain and I darted to grab his hand. “Wait! I'm not done yet.”

After a moment the man nodded and moved to sit back down. I reached for the silverware I had dropped on the table, wiping it off and sighing as I began to eat again.

The oddly familiar scent of cooked fish invaded my nostrils, and I took a deep breath. I began to eat, wilder than I had been before coming to. The man looked a little green at the sight of my almost gluttonous, savage mannerisms. I licked the bit of tangy sauce away from the corner of my mouth, greedily choking down all the fish I could fit at once.

“Why are you so hungry? I've been feeding you well.” His eyes seemed concerned but he smiled at me with wholesome and real feelings. 

“You have?” I was shocked, I had even forgotten to eat? I finished eating the food and licking my hands clean of it. “What exactly am I doing here? I was getting away from my…” I almost forgot what I was saying “...stupid mother.” Magnus took a towel off the table and walked over to me. 

He smiled and said, “You're getting dirty.” Magnus held up my head and wiped it with the towel and then cleaning my hands. 

“But, why am I here?” I asked again confused and honestly a little scared. 

          Magnus blinked rapidly, lightly scratching his chin as he spoke about having saved me from being run over by a carriage. He then explained that nobody in town wanted to treat me, and he settled to bring me to his home. I winced, apologizing for causing so much trouble. Suspicion began to linger in my mind as the man laughed off my attempts to say I should leave and not bother him anymore. It was after a moment of thought, fingering the clothes I wore when I asked who they belonged to. It was obvious it fit neither me nor him. There was a tense pause, then he spoke.

“I found them,” Magnus said smiling and running his fingers through my hair removing the tangles in it. 

“Like as in on the ground?” 

“Yes actually. A woman's husband died recently in the village and she put his clothes in a bag and threw it outside. I asked if I could keep them since I thought you'd like some nice new clothes.”

I winced, my mind flashing back to my bastard of a stepfather and how he had destroyed my mother. I frowned, not wanting to wear the clothes for a moment. Then in the back of my mind whispered a voice, tiny but entirely sinister. “Wear them,” it said, “just to spite _ him _ . You're the one in charge now.”

“Thank you…” I said quietly. I looked up at him wondering why he was willing to help me? 

“Can you stand now?” Magnus asked. I tried to do so, my legs shaking. “Can you walk?” I did, for only a few steps before I fell against the wall. 

“I can not walk that well.” He wrapped his arm around my waist helping me stand. 

“I've had to carry you for the most part.” Magnus then turned me towards him almost like he was twirling me around. I stumbled, falling against his chest and resting there nervously, I apologized and received no punishment. That was something I found completely abnormal and I could sense his discomfort at my own uncomfortably tense muscles. 

           I took a deep breath, standing again and allowing him to lead me back to the bedroom. The first thing I noticed was that the bed was messy on both sides. My eyes darted to the aged man subtly, filling with a sinking suspicion that he had been much closer to me than I would've liked. I shuddered, feeling a little off as his arm slid across my back as he tried to warm me. He sat me down, getting some clothes for me to sleep in. He sat them down and left, humming cheerily. I looked at the shirt, frowning as I saw a name. I tried to pronounce it, eventually getting it right. 

 

I mumbled the name, “Jan. The husband’s name was Jan? Though… it might not have been. The stitching is rather shoddy, someone’s hands shook a lot while making this.

“It was, I’ve always thought Jan was a lovely name.” Magnus came over to me and adjusted my collar. “He was awfully tall compared to you though.” 

I looked at the bed again and asked with some nervousness “Why is the bed so messy?” I possibly said that a little too straightforward. 

“I have nightmares and move a lot while I sleep.”

      I almost melted in relief, not at all concerned with keeping my discomfort secret. I sat down, nervously tapping my foot. I hated the feeling of having to blindly trust this man. This man, while he had saved my life, was creepy beyond measure. He leaned in, lightly tugging away some tangles in my hair. I got a glance at myself in the mirror, almost horrified with how I looked. Half of my hair had been sheared off, with a stitched gash spreading from my jaw to behind my head, I absently moved to feel, jumping as Magnus grabbed my hand. 

     He spoke, “Don’t touch it, you might start bleeding again.”

      I frowned, tugging my hand from his and letting it fall into my lap. I looked like some sort of horrible monster, a sudden shiver running down my spine as I remembered the fate of my horse. I could’ve easily been left out to die like her, yet this odd man rescued me. He spent time and resources on me. I felt my heart twitch painfully, and I relaxed. I felt that he wouldn’t hurt me since nobody ever wasted resources on something they didn’t want.

“Cosmetics shouldn’t matter too much, especially when you’re so obviously injured.” He said rubbing his hand behind my ear. “Besides hair always grows back.” He smiled at that. He was so kind, yet so tired looking at the same time. 

“Have you always been this kind? Most people are not as nurturing as you.” I asked him while looking down at my feet which were in Jan’s oversized shoes.

      He looked at me kindly before saying “I suppose I am, then again no one is too kind to me, I’m a bit of an outcast you see, and I definitely was not going to let you remain out where the wolves could get you. I mean to get even more detailed I was said to be energetic and loud when I was younger, that of course changed, but then again I did age and get wiser, quieter, more lonely, I’m just glad to take care of you.”

      I smiled weakly, trying to convey my silent thanks. I was extremely tense before, but he seemed to care a lot. I did feel odd though, the clothes seemed to be in perfect condition and nobody was in mourning when I came into town. I tugged at the nightclothes, slipping out of the shoes as I tried to lie down. Magnus hummed and moved to sit at my side, crawling under the covers with me. I frowned but reasoned that he hadn’t taken advantage of me yet, not to mention he must’ve treated my injuries himself. My hair wasn’t shaved with the precision of a doctor, as far as I could tell. I winced as my head touched the pillow, having to turn to face Magnus. Some deep part of me had the suspicion that he purposely arranged our positions. I again drowned the gut feeling. Magnus obviously didn’t have any ill intent, in fact, he seemed more friendly than manipulative. I curled up on the bed, falling asleep. I never saw Magnus get up, still well-dressed, and leave the room.


	3. Gut Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We haven't slept. We've been busy and are having the time of our lives trying to place "our" characters. Hope you enjoy this newest update because we had fun writing it!

        It had been a couple months since I first came to, with an old man dining with my delirious self. I was horribly concerned he was one of those men my mother told me about. The ones who would sell others as slaves. But this long already and he hadn’t done anything to hurt me. In fact, Magnus seemed determined to keep me from even getting a tiny cut while helping cook dinner. I was surprised that the forty-one-year-old man had such spring in his step. Even despite looking so sad when he thought he was alone, he seemed to cheer up around me. It made me feel more important.

       Magnus helped me in my spare time, teaching me everything he had learned in school. I was able to write in elegant, perfect script, and do most things a scholar would. It was like I had gone to church but without the strict mentors. Magnus even rewarded me with expensive gifts when I did well during our lessons, the most recent gift is a small pendant with interlocking chains. It felt like it was burning my skin when I wore it, but I kept it on for his sake. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Even as it scarred my chest I wore it. Magnus didn’t seem to notice the burn, and when I mentioned it he seemed confused because he couldn’t see the blackened, seeping wound.

       But as kind as his gifts were I really did not need them, Hell I did not know where he had acquired the money needed to buy them. I would offer to do extra things around the house to repay him but he always insisted that all I do is at least have dinner with him. My he loved it when we ate together. Of course, I always sat with him, I always also help with making dinner and gardening.

        He would, twice a week, leave for about three hours, he told me he was going to take care of his aging father. Once more I offered to help him with that, but Magnus told me his father was senile and did not react well to new people, so respected his wishes by at least sweeping the house while he was away.

        Over the last few months, my hair has grown back, though the scar from falling out of the carriage remained hairless. But with my hair I found it always falling in front of my eyes, Magnus knew very well that I was not going to cut my hair yet since I was so self-conscious with half of my hair gone. So he got me a hair clip to keep my bangs out of my eyes, but I noticed something about it. the name Jan was inscribed on the hairpin, so I knew it wasn’t as new as he claimed it to be.

        I had been suspicious for a while, but now I had no choice. I confronted him. There was no way anyone in town would’ve given up this much stuff when they could’ve sold it. When I finally cornered him, his eyes widened and he looked saddened. He explained, after some urging and threatening, that Jan was special to him. Or, at least, as special as one _man_ could be. I felt stupefied, suddenly aware of the clothes I was wearing. All the gifts he had given me, and all the odd glances made for a very unsettling set of memories. I felt sickened, not at the dead man’s clothes, but that I was wearing something that might’ve been on a corpse. I was sleeping in the same room as Magnus, eating with him, I had become the replacement best friend.

        I wanted to yell, scream, or get angry, but I knew I would’ve done the same if my horrible mother adopted a younger boy. I’d have given him my baby brother’s clothes and try to coddle him. I might’ve become just as desperate. I felt all my anger ebb away, and I whispered an apology to him. I left the room quietly, pretending not to hear the man’s sigh. I hid away until the late evening. That was when I heard him leave the room finally and start walking the path away from town. I hesitantly inched forwards, following him silently. I wasn’t at all worried what he might do since I had a long while to get to know the man.

       I felt horrible for causing him stress, having heard stories of his youth. Magnus had been a cheerful man, with untrimmed blond locks that stuck out in all directions. He had worked in a bakery and was well loved until something happened. Magnus and the mysterious, deceased Jan had moved out to this house, having built it themselves. Jan had eventually gotten sick with something that had run in his family and passed in his sleep. I pieced it together from some dated portraits that Jan had died sometime in winter when I was still learning to walk.

        The road Magnus walked went straight through a mucky marsh, my feet stuck in the mud in it and it was hard to remain silent as a result. I fell even a little and I worried that he heard my splat on the ground. But he continued walking, was he going deaf? Magnus hummed something to himself, possibly that was the reason for him not hearing me. I walked behind him through the rest of the marsh and then through a patch of trees that were covered in moss.I wondered what kind of place his father lived in, must have been in the middle of nowhere.

        But Magnus stopped after a bit in the middle of the road, which prompted me to hide in the bushes away from him. I saw what looked like Magnus shaking, was he cold or sick I wondered? But instead, he turned around and stared right at the shrub I hid behind, tears streaming down his face and breathing heavily. “Sigurd, why did you follow me?” I froze terrified. “I thought eventually you’d become bored and leave me alone my dear Sigurd.”  I stood up and muttered something about simply wanting to help him with his father, that it was to repay him for all that Magnus had done for him.

        Magnus ran up into me causing us both to fall over. He grabbed my shoulders and began to shake me violently shouting “Why did you have to follow me?! Let me be! Why can’t you stay at home!?”

        “Forgive me Magnus!” I begged. “Why is it so bad that I see your father?” I tried to ask. But instead he just picked me up and began to walk home, I tried to get away but I was stuck in his grip. I winced at his grip, crying out that he was hurting me. He didn’t seem to be able to hear me, or he was too angry to. I went limp, heart racing from fear. I blacked out halfway, tears rolling down my face as I stared blankly into the air. Magnus seemed to snap back to his normal self after crossing the threshold, horrified at what he did. I was still too scared, years of memories of my mother’s abuse rushing back. He loosened his grip enough for me to escape, and I locked myself in the bedroom. I was beginning to grow dizzy, grabbing a bucket and bringing up the contents of my stomach.

       I ignored his pleas for me to unlock the door, sobbing as I heaved. Crescent punctures ran up and down my arms, bleeding and mixing freely with my tears and bile as the streams of blood stained the clothes I wore. I felt a horrible migraine coming on, moving to lightly touch the side of my head where the scar lay. I slept by the bucket that night, growing horribly ill. By morning Magnus had picked the lock and had begun to check up on me. When I woke up, I reacted just as I had when I first arrived. I had a meltdown, screaming until my throat was raw and my injuries began to bleed again from the rough movement. He hugged me to his chest, apologizing and trying to convince me he wasn’t feeling well.

        I didn’t understand why he was acting strange or change in only a matter of hours. I looked up at him and told him that I forgave him. He ran his hands up my back and into my hair causing me to shiver. “It’s such a dangerous walk there, and you could get hurt, and I would hate that.” I just nodded in reply to him, I hoped this would be the end of it. But it was not. Though his behavior was not bad to say, he refused to leave my side, as if to watch everything I did.

       With winter coming he told me he was going out to get me warmer clothes, but as usual, they were from his long gone friend Jan. He put the large coat on me and said “Good, I can sleep well knowing you'll be warm.”

        I looked at him and said, “These are not new Magnus.”

        He seemed to completely ignore me adding a striped scarf to me.

        I eventually forgot entirely about the encounter. It was as if it never happened. I looked up to Magnus again, even though his secretive walks haunted my mind and now I had horrible nightmares of the beast that ate my horse finding Magnus on his walks and killing him. When I woke up, I begged him not to leave me. His gaze always seemed to drift away from me, lost in his own world. My heart would hurt more and more, his refusal to see me as myself. I could see it in his eyes. He never looked directly at me, and as much as I resented the feeling I _wanted_ him to look back at me and promise me he’d be safe. I begged him, wrapping my scarred arms around him and trying everything I could.

        I’d inhale the oddly compelling smell that hovered around him like a cloak, and I’d feel safe. I wanted to provide that same feeling, but I knew he’d never notice. Some days it was as if he wasn’t there at all. I’d find him sitting on the porch, staring into the woods towards where the encounter happened. Soon twice a week became three times, and then four times, and soon he was hardly home. I would care for the house in his absence, cook dinner that was cold by the time he got back, and make a bed that I’d have always curled up on by the time he remembered I existed.

        Then suddenly he changed. He didn’t go out to check on his _father_ , and everything seemed to return to the days when he and I would cook together and take care of the house. He seemed happier, though he still left the house often. I found myself craving his happiness, wanting to do anything I could to keep him this happy. One day I heard him laugh and talk to thin air, talking about me. Or, at least, I thought it was me. He didn’t seem to talk to anyone else. I wondered if maybe he went to a church that was hated in the area, or if he was the main asset in an affair with some beautiful lady somewhere. Maybe that’s why he was so violent? He just didn’t want to be outed. After all, people _were_ killed for things like that.

        One day, when the first snow of the year was falling I became cold thus I decided to wear some of the winter clothes Magnus had gotten me. I put on a thicker and heavier jacket as well as a blue and white, striped scarf. As I sat in front of the fire in my clothing cocoon on the verge of falling asleep, Magnus came in and stopped where he was just staring at me. I looked up at him, he had obviously been outside but he seemed to be in shock as he looked at me. “Magnus, are you alright?” I asked him with concern. He did not bother with shutting the door and came up to me hugging me close not letting me go and mumbling something incoherently. He rubbed his face against me and his arms up and down me, to be frank, it was rather strange.

        I looked at him, his expression a weary smile.”Oh, you are just like an angel.”

        I tried to inch away to shut the door, nervous that all the warm air would escape. He tightened his hold on me, before letting go and shutting the door. He looked back towards me, his expression unreadable. I felt confused as he returned to my side, being pulled to rest beside him. I looked up, my eyes wide. I felt happier than usual, though, smiling up at him. My happiness seemed to be a confirmation for him, and I felt his arms relax and slide to rest around my middle. I grimaced, but only for a second. I trusted him, and I knew he cared. I asked for dinner, watching him leave before going to go rest in the bedroom. On the way in, I tripped over a journal. I saw a familiar name on it, but I simply sat it aside. Magnus wouldn’t like me to get distracted by old memories. Besides, as much as I tried, I found that I didn’t want to look either. It’d just make us both upset.

       From that day on he insisted I wear the scarf when I did he would spoil and hold me, though I do not like to receive senseless gifts I felt obligated to take them since he was so happy when I took them. Eventually, he did all the cooking, even though I offered to help he wanted to so badly. Magnus when we slept held me to his chest and kept me in his grasp at night, for an older man, he seemed to have more than enough compassion to spare. I liked it though, was it because I felt happy to be in someone’s company? Like having a best friend? Or was it something else?

       After a while, though, my satisfaction faded. His hands wandered, and sometimes his gaze would linger for more than I liked. He was eerily distant yet he was as endearing as anyone could be. I was, for some unknown reason, reminded of how my stepfather used to treat my mother. I was laying in bed one night, all too aware of his breath on my neck. I felt unease twist in my gut. I just felt so tired, though, and I soon fell asleep without issue. I never saw the maniacal smirk on Magnus’ face nor the small blade in his unoccupied hand, but I wouldn’t have cared anyways. Magnus knew best, after all.


End file.
